Any True Logic
by KandyKitten
Summary: Left alone on New Vulcan, Spock Prime longs for what he has long lost. Warnings inside


Hello, dear reader!

Honestly, it's well past midnight and I don't really know what to say about this to make a good introduction...except, maybe that this was inspired by two things: This incredibly heart-wrenching moment in ST IX when Spock looks on and whispers 'Thrusters on full', and the no less painful, but unfilmed scene, in which Spock shows his younger counterpart a locket containing a holovid of Jim Kirk holding a speech that includes the words: "_If there's any true logic to the universe… we'll end up on that bridge again someday. _."

I know it's cheesy, but this kind of brought tears to my eyes and it has floated in my head for quite a while...and well, this is the result.

I hope you enjoy it.

Yours sincerely, KandyKitten

W: no fluff, implied character's death, potential trigger warning. Mentions of The Wrath of Khan and Operation: Annihilate!

* * *

He had stopped meditating, for he knew if he did, he would dream.

He had no logical reason for this behavior that some might call masochistic – nightmares, the sight of his planet crumbling, falling into itself, his old acquaintances and friends on their deathbeds, his own death in the radiation chamber ages ago, Jim's hazel, tortured eyes, swimming in tears – would inadvertently come to plague him, would wake him up sweating and gasping, his heart pounding so much faster than it it should at his age...but the pain was worth it.

He accepted the horrors because sometimes, there would be happier memories resurfacing, sometimes in a haze, sometimes clear as a holovid, clear as life.

Spock accepted the horrors for the sake of seeing his friends again, memories of busy days and sleepless nights, be it because of simple stargazing or red alert, be it research or endless games of chess in the mass with his captain, be it on away missions or an uneventful day on the bridge...it did not matter to him, because he would be there.

On the _Enterprise_.

It was shameful to admit this, but this, those dreams, were what gave him the strength to go on with his life and he secretly looked forward to every one of them, and, even though he did not know it, every night those dreams came for him, the lightest of smiles would graze his weathered features, the reminder of a smile once directed at his best of friends.

* * *

Today was not such a lucky night.

This night, he woke up drenched in sweat – definitely one of his human traits – his heart racing, the scream of pain and horror that he had not been able to give back then when he had felt the scorching, greedily searching tentacles of an unknown life-form whipping through his body, searching, curling around his nerves, still stuck in his throat.

He knew he would not fall asleep again and as trying something doomed to fail was illogical, he stood up, wrapped a robe tightly around his now frail body and stepped through the open door onto the balcony behind it, coming to a halt at the rail, from where he had an incredible look on the city on New Vulcan where he currently resided.

Fingers tightening the robe even more against the half-chill of a small breeze, Spock threw a long look at the houses below – no lights anywhere, everybody else was either sleeping or mediating – then he rose his gaze upwards, to a night sky shockingly different than that on Vulcan.

For every other Vulcan, even though none of them ever were to admit it, it was an unwelcoming sight, this new stars and the two moon that shone now instead of none, but to him, it was perfect.

Perfect, because when he stared up at unfamiliar constellations, he could...pretend.

As a Vulcan, he knew he should not even think about this, but at night, his human half had always been at its strongest. Letting Vulcan dignity slip, Spock stared at the stars, at the reddish, looming moons, breathed in the scent of dust and sand and newly-planted gardens, of the flowers at the balcony's edge and thought of his crew.

He thought of the good doctor cursing the temperature in his grating Southern drawl, of Chekov telling him with his thick accent that Moscow would be cooler, of Sulu exclaiming his delight over the Desert Ivy's lazily weaving vines, of Jim's easy, indulgent smile, content with watching over his working scientists...tricorders whirring...maybe he would make a comment about his First's current inactivity - _"Enjoying the scenery, Mr. Spock? Might it just be that there is a bit of a romantic's heart beating in your chest, after all?"_ - in that teasing tone, a warm smile accompanying...

….and then, the squealing cry of some native animal cut through the peaceful quiet and suddenly, he was alone again, back in a colony that should never have been built.

He still did glance around – it had seemed so _real _– but there was nothing, no light, no voices, no crew, just him, and, for once, Spock was not ashamed of the moisture in his eyes.

* * *

He stayed out on the balcony for the better part of two hours, still looking at the sky. Somewhere out there, he knew, the today's _Enterprise_ was probably warping through open space with his today's counterpart on board, maybe researching, maybe sleeping, maybe stargazing...he had done that sometimes during his time in space...living the life Spock himself had long left behind.

The harsh pang of jealousy he felt at that thought was unbecoming for a Vulcan and Spock quickly focused to suppress it, but stopped himself before he could, a tiny, contemplating frown deepening the lines on his forehead.

In comparison to the length of his life, his time on the Enterprise had not lasted long, but it had been the best time of his life. It had been the only time he had ever truly considered himself content, happy, even and ever since they had parted, since her crew had been lost to him...

Nothing had ever seemed so warm and bright again as the Enterprise and her crew, as listening to Sulu happily explaining his newest hobby, as listening to Chekov going on about Russia, his discussions with Scott, hearing Uhura's voice filling the ship with music, as his half-serious arguments with McCoy, as Jim's smile...and, he thought, the knowledge that there was somebody right now who had just began to life a life with those wonderful people who would hold his heart even centuries after their death...

Maybe, he could indulge a hint of jealousy.

With an almost transparent smile and a last glance at the depth of space that he would most likely never travel again, Spock drew the robe closer once more and stepped back inside, drawing the curtains close behind him to shut out the view on a foreign planet and the night sky's lights.

He was not as young as he used to be and he could feel age's tributes, those small, but deep-seated pulls and aches in his joints and bones, as he sunk back to sit on his bed, staring emptily at the undecorated wall that he could no longer see clearly. Focusing on himself, he could feel every breath, every fluttering heartbeat that pumped his blood through his veins in a much faster rate than in a human, felt it with much more accuracy than any other species would ever be capable of...

...thought of how easy it would be to stop it, to sink into meditation and will his body into giving out, as an aged machine being switched off...

….and knew that he could not, not yet.

There was still too much left to do, the colony still needed him, needed his guide, his long-built expertise at handling humans. He could not leave them for his own, uncalled-for, selfish _feeling_ of longing and loneliness.

A sigh, deeper and so much more world-wary than any of his old friends had ever heard from him, Spock discarded the robe, carefully sank back onto the bed, hoisted his legs up and pulled the lithe covers back over his thinning body.

No, today was not the day he would even consider stopping his own heart, there was still too much to do and he would not step in front of his friends, in front of his _Captain_ with so many important duties left unfulfilled.

But when he had...when he had fulfilled it all...

Jim and McCoy had occasionally talked about it, the human version of an afterlife, and now, in the middle of the night, the scent of genuine, Vulcan Orchids lingering heavily in the dark room, Spock found himself contemplating it...wishing that whatever paradise humans might enter, he would be allowed to follow his friends there, to be with them.

And if there was a fraction of fairness, any true logic in the universe, Spock mused as he closed his eyes against the night, he would follow them, maybe he would simply step into one of those wonderful dream's scenery, simply...dream on and never wake up again, be on the _Enterprise_ forever, walk down the endless corridors to the bridge, accompanied by the doctor's never-ending snipes, while Jim's brilliant, golden smile shone at him...

And if there was none, if his _katra_ would, with no one close to contain it, simply disintegrate, fade into nothingness, was Spock's last thought before sleep claimed him once more, if there was any fairness then it would do so within a dream of his closest friends, because Spock knew, even if it would last only seconds, to him, it would feel like eternity.

* * *

Thank you for reading.

Lots of Love, KandyKitten


End file.
